July 25th, 1980

[continued]

Now it is Friday and I am facing my first weekend without Phil– without the plans, the dreams, the future that was so close. I am at this very moment supposed to be at a cocktail party/cookout here on Capitol Hill. Linda, a sweet, wholesome dull woman who I work with is having 25 or so over, all of whom are either involved in or interested in signing for the deaf. I chastise myself for not wanting to go– I prefer to sit here and write at the kitchen table in my underwear and drink beer.  I have a rather good suspicion that this group would bore me senseless. When she first invited me I thought so– but said yes. All week I’ve mused whether I would go or not. A couple of times she’s asked if I’m planning on coming. I’ve enthusiastically said yes. I am now 45 minutes late and called her. I told her that my air conditioner was not working and that I was stranded here waiting for my landlord. A specious predicament allowing me to stall. She said not to worry– to come later. I said I would probably be there in 45 minutes.

An hour and a half later I was there– a group of young, sincere, intelligent nudges. DC bores. Oh God, why can I not be happy– now, nearly midnight, I forgo a party in G’Town. Phone call to Phil– no remission– he says he loves me– but is not ready for a relationship. I leave for Equus. The local bars. Home turf.